


Home is where

by artisan447



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M, episode: s2e20 Ha'alele
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-12
Updated: 2012-04-12
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:51:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artisan447/pseuds/artisan447
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That's the thing about Danny Williams, when it comes to the select group of people he really cares about, he can't help feeling too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home is where

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dear Steve](https://archiveofourown.org/works/380391) by [sheafrotherdon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon). 



>  
> 
> Many thanks to [](http://dogeared.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://dogeared.livejournal.com/)**dogeared** for the beta.
> 
>  

Danny hears Steve's cab turn off the main road, listens to it crunch its way up the drive and stop by the porch, but it doesn't stop him pacing. He still needs to move -- three steps toward the couch, three steps back -- it's a wonder he hasn't worn a hole through the carpet, he's traced this path so many times over the last eight days.

Steve phoned, see? Finally, after four hundred missed calls and messages and twice as many texts -- Danny's nothing if not persistent -- he fucking called to say he was on his way home, already in a cab. Called his own landline because it's just that obvious that Danny would be here, in Steve's living room keeping vigil, just like the cheerleader's father he'd joked about to Chin.

He's taken a perverse pleasure out of drinking Steve's beer and charging more to his account at the store, but it still fucking pisses him off.

The cab door slams shut, and Steve's footsteps are loud across the gravel and up the steps. Danny can almost see the duffel slung over one shoulder, the cargos with their stupid pockets stuffed full of superhero toys, and the stubborn 'I did what I had to do' face.

He's not opening the door, he's fucking not. Steve can make at least that much effort to come home all by himself, thank you very much. And if he dares to say "I'm sorry" in that 'I'm really, really not' tone he has, then Danny's going to punch him right in his far too perfect nose.

His body is clenched so tight that his heart is a rapid _whoosh, thump_ in his ears and he can feel his pulse in his goddamn fingertips. He can hear Kono's voice in his head telling him, "breathe, brah, before you stroke out".

The door opens and then suddenly Steve's just there, a dark shadow filling the doorway, backlit by the late afternoon sun. Danny's fists curl into tight, angry balls, and he stuffs them into his pockets. 

For long, drawn-out seconds, neither of them moves, and then Steve lowers the duffel carefully to the floor, shuts the door and turns to stare silently at Danny.

His face is visible now, and for some reason, Danny can't find any of the words he's been assembling to make clear, in great detail, what an enormous fucking prick Steve is. It might be the old bruise high on Steve's cheek-bone, or the remnants of what must have been, at some point, an impressive black eye. Or it might be the defensive way he's holding his body; he looks tired, even his hair is flat and lifeless, and when he just turns both hands outwards as though that's the sum total of the energy he has left, suddenly it's enough. All over without the shouting.

Danny's moving before he knows it. Keeps walking until there's only a breath separating them and he can reach up and run a careful finger over the bruised bone and down the side of Steve's stubbled cheek. He watches as Steve's eyelids droop with something that might be exhaustion, but might also be that thing that the secret part of Danny's heart that belongs to Steve knows, is something else entirely.

"I'm sorry," Steve sighs, and it's so heartfelt, so genuine that Danny's breath just stops. He reaches out and drags Steve in tight against his chest.

"Asshole," he murmurs, and tucks his face against Steve's neck, breathing in the scent of Steve, and exhaustion, and the effort of too many days spent just getting home. "If you think I'm taking my eyes off you ever again, you can fucking think again."

He feels a gentle laugh huff out of Steve's chest as he finally lifts his arms and hugs Danny right back, feels the warmth of Steve's breath as he presses his face into Danny's hair, and feels the thing in his heart that's been wrong, since the minute he found Steve's letter on his desk, flip over into something that's entirely right.

\--the end--

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted [on Livejournal](http://ms-artisan.livejournal.com/134484.html)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [one big disaster](https://archiveofourown.org/works/382162) by [dogeared](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogeared/pseuds/dogeared)




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